Calling From an Old Friend
by sapphire blue-ruby red roses
Summary: Gendry receives a request from a woman claiming to be one of the Faceless Men and Mother of Wolves. stupid little one-shot, something I wrote to keep me busy


**So, there was really no point to this, just something I've had floating around my head for awhile. I hope y'all like it. Mind you, I haven't read the books, I've only watched the show, so just bear with me on that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**

**P.S. – There's a quote I slipped in from another book somewhere in the beginning, if you can guess the quote and the book it came from, I'll write you a one-shot of your choosing**

Calling From an Old friend

"Your Grace," Bran said, stopping is king in his path as he was headed down to the stables. More and more often he spent all of his time riding and away from the castle when he was not taking care of his daily duties. Bran suspected it was to escape the prospects Sir Jamie so often brought him in an attempt to have him choose a wife. The King had been adamant against every suitor, and it was beginning to worry the young Hand.

Sighing tiredly, Gendry turned to look at his Hand of the King. "What is it, Bran? I thought you said I had no grievances to hear today, and we've already taken care of everything else. If you say that Uncle Jamie brought me another prospect, I'll-"

Bran quickly cut the man off, shaking his head. "Nothing like that, your grace, there is just… You've heard tales of the Faceless Men in Braavos, I presume?"

Gendry nodded, his mouth tightening with something that looked of anger, but was more akin to sorrow. "Yes, they were spoken of a lot in Flee Bottom. What of them?"

A question rose in Bran's mind, one he had wondered about for years, since Gendry had asked him to be the Hand. Since he had found out that Gendry had known his lost sister, Arya. "Your Grace, why do you never speak of your past? Aren't there persons who you know that you'd like to talk to once more?"

His shoulders sagging as if the weight of Summer had been placed on them, Gendry said, "My dear friend, rags to riches isn't a story anyone wants to hear until after it's done, and even then they rarely wish to hear it. I'd rather leave my past where it belongs. People ask less questions that way. Now, what of the Faceless Men of Braavos?"

Bran bit his lip, wondering if it was right to continue with the meeting. Scratching Summer behind the ears, he continued. "There is a Faceless Man, or rather Faceless Woman, who says she has been trained in the art of Water Dancing. She is known as the Mother of Wolves. She wishes to meet with you."

"What business does she have with me?" Gendry asked, eyebrows raised. He was already moving his way towards the throne room, not bothering to pause and pull on his fine threads or crown.

Bran jogged to reach him. "I do not know. She didn't tell me." Frowning, he watched the eagerness dance in his king's eyes.

"Did she give a name?"

"Lommy White, your grace, though since Lommy is a male name, I suppose she is lying."

Gendry frowned with a roll of his eyes. "I'm starting to put together who this woman is."

Bran stayed quiet, following slowly after his king. Even though his legs had healed many moons ago, they still ached when too much strain was placed on them. Running from room to room looking for Gendry seemed to qualify as such.

Bursting through the throne room doors, he marched towards the grey-cloaked woman, stopping directly in front of her. "_Lommy_ White," he said with enough insinuation to cut the name to pieces, "You have caught me on my rest day. I pray you have a good reason for such."

Bowing at the waist, her voice seemed too high for her frame, accented with Braavosi influence. "Your Grace, forgive me for disturbing you, but I was certain if I came on your rest day I'd receive your full, undivided attention." Still bowing, she turned to Bran, "My Lord, I am sorry for making you run. Your legs must be aching."

Startled, Bran shifted back a step. He had had an idea of who lay beneath the cloak, but with those words, he was no longer so certain.

"Rise," Gendry commanded, "A lady who bows?"

The woman chuckled, standing straight. The hood of her cloak cast sufficient shadows to cover a majority of her features. Only her full, browned lips and a thick red braid running over her shoulder and down her chest could be seen. Her skin was lightly tanned. "I'm no lady, your grace. I have never been a lady, try as my mother might to change that."

A frown curved down Gendry's lips. "What business do you have with me, _m'lady_?" The title came out mocking, but it seemed to be a simple slip of the tongue.

The woman pursed her lips in irritation. "_Your Grace_," the woman replied with just as much condescension as he'd used, "I would greatly appreciate if you did not call me m'lady."

"As _m'lady_ commands," Gendry replied. Bran gawked at him, unsure where this playful King had originated from.

"I am not a lady," the woman grit out, fingers crawling into tight fists at her sides.

"Neither are you a man," Gendry replied evenly.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the woman said, "I did not come here to be mocked, your grace. I have come to request a spot in your kingsguard. I know you have not established one as of yet."

Gendry smiled. "All right, I will allow you to serve in my kingsguard," he began, "but only on the condition that you become my queen."

Bran almost choked on the air he'd sucked in sharply. Had Gendry gone **mad**?! What was he thinking? This was a woman that could rip off his family jewels and make **him** a woman with just her bare hands. What was he thinking, if he was thinking at all?

"I do not wish for a crown, your grace, only a sword," the woman said, her mouth turning down in a frowned. Her features shivered.

"That is why _m'lady_ is the best choice for the position. A friend taught me that."

The woman's hands came up, opened palmed, slamming into his chest. "Stop calling me m'lady!" she cried. Bran startled, staring at the pair with wide eyes.

"As m'lady commands," Gendry repeated, smirking.

The woman shoved him once more, pushing him off balance. Grabbing her wrist, he brought her down with him. She lay on his chest, huffing with irritation.

Grinning, Gendry pushed back the hood of the cloak. Her feigned features had fallen away revealing dark brown hair braided to the side, storm gray eyes glaring down at him and lightly tanned skin. "I needed to get you mad so you'd dropped the act. You should have chosen another name, m'lady. Maybe then I wouldn't have realized who you were so quickly. In all honestly, you didn't even try."

Punching his chest so hard her fist began to ache, Arya growled low in her throat, "You're infuriating."

"And you're wonderful," Gendry laughed, holding her to his chest tightly.

Arya sighed irately, but melted into the embrace. "Can I have my spot in your kingsguard still? I was being serious about that."

"I was being serious as well. You can have the spot, you can even be the captain of my kingsguard, only if you become my queen."

Signing, Arya dropped her head into the crook of his neck. "I guess I have no choice then."

Slipping away without notice, Bran slid from the room to begin the preparations. This was sure to be an interesting moon and marriage.

**Well, there you have it, just a short little fic thing I had fun writing. There was really no point to it. If you can guess what quote I used and which book it was from, I'll write a short one-shot for you of your choosing. It's kind of an obscure series as of right now, so it'll be interesting to see if any of you get it.**


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